A Very Rhetorical Question
by Kristoffer Roux
Summary: <html><head></head>Harry asks something to Hermione. She answers, not just what he had expected it to be. HP1. AU.</html>


**A Very Rhetorical Question**

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot.

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Love? Love is such an old-fashioned and overrated word. Sure, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One, as many people like to call him because he defeated the Dark Lord or He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named, never has an experience of love, either by family-related or husband-and-wife thingy. He was just a baby, precisely one year old, to experience such tragic event in his life, parents being dead and relatives treat him horribly wrong until this day forth, but despite the fact that he has reasons to wallow in his self-pity or drown himself in his well of sorrow, nonetheless he has sources to wake him up that he should be happy for the rest of his life. His none other source is his best friends, namely Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Harry, Ron and Hermione became friends during their first year in Hogwarts, when Ron teased Hermione being a nerdy bookworm, and she cried, going to the girls' bathroom, and coincidentally there was an enormous ill-witted troll, which someone unknown (probably be Snape) had bailed out, thus going where she was. And so when Harry remembered why Hermione never came to dinner, he and Ron saw the troll going to the girls' bathroom, thus Harry coming to save the damsel-in-distress' life. Harry, who in that time didn't know any spells, charms, curses, counter-curses or enchantments that could save Hermione's life against their enemy, tackled his body against the troll's. Everyone knew that this was a stupid idea, but Harry wasn't the type of person who would just stare, look or do nothing while his fellow classmate's life would be in danger. He would save him or her and do everything in his will just for not exchanging that person's life over to Death.

In the end, it wasn't Harry who saved Hermione's life. It was his other friend, Ron Weasley, the one who bullied her. Of course it was only even and natural, but the one thing that would never die is the fact that Harry risked his life just for her, his fellow classmate, not a significant other, but only a commoner, yet Ron, when Harry said something to do anything, would just do something if his attention would be called. Nonetheless, anyone who would think about this would come to a conclusion that it is indeed codswallop. It may be their opinion, but they just want it to be respected.

But now, Harry was having constant dreams about the Mirror of Erised, a magic mirror which lets anyone sees what his heart deeply desires. However, Professor Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, told Harry that the Mirror was to remove the following day, and also requested not to look for it again unless he would see it in an empty classroom. Obediently, Harry didn't. However, there was a price of his acquiescence: he was having disturbing dreams for in fact his deepest desire is to have a family. He saw his parents and his parents' parents, smiling at him. However, in a flash of green light, they had been murdered by some cloaked man. He was still having these dreams and today, two days before the term starts again, he resolved to tell Hermione once she came back.

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"_Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ('If Filch had caught you!'), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was."_

_~ Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter Thirteen_

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_The day when classes starts…_

From the constant dream he had again, he abruptly woke up and turned over to his bedside table to get his glasses. He saw the clock; it was nearly breakfast. Not really, though. A one and half-hour left to eat and to prepare for classes. Without further ado, he got up and fixed his bed sheets, which became a habit of his because of the Dursleys. He went to the bathroom to fix himself without waking Ron.

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Harry, Ron and Hermione were having their lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts by Professor Quirrel. Since Harry and Hermione were seated together, and Ron with Harry, Harry thought it was easy to ask Hermione an awkward question without being seen by a teacher and an unknown look from Ron. Surreptitiously, he sent her a piece of parchment which she suspiciously accepted.

_Can you explain love for me?_

Hermione had her eyes frowned. If he was going to ask her a question when they were supposed to be doing an essay, then she felt furious. However, since Hermione doesn't want to lose Harry as a friend, she would ask him nicely and politely as she could, not to interfere whatever she was doing, or what _they _were doing. She glanced at her friend: he seemed to be doing his work seriously, or maybe pretending to be. Suddenly, he stopped writing and barely blinked. She turned away and blushed briefly, her hair covering her face. She was embarrassed because she was caught staring or it might be appeared, gawking, at her friend.

_Life isn't fair, _she thought illogically. After she wrote her response, she returned the paper with her eyes glancing on the teacher.

_Can't it wait until later?_

Harry observed her movements out of the corner of his eyes. Sure he was wearing his spectacles because of his sight problem, but he deemed or felt Hermione's movements as to be irritation or hesitant. He wrote his wordy reply and gave to her, being more careful than his previous attempt.

_No. _

_Sheesh, Harry. Why sent me a very long reply? _Hermione wrote, scorned.

Harry thought that she became irritated than earlier. He saw how her eyes had narrowed, so he wrote a very lengthy word-to-the-heart speech in return.

_I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll do anything! It's just that if I ask Ron, he might pity me, and I couldn't let myself devour of the feeling of being pitied. I know that friends don't pity friends, but you, Ron and I had just met, and I considered the two of you to be my best friends. It may seem fast, but I didn't have any ever since I was child. I was physically abused by the Muggle relatives who let me in to their house, so I don't know what friends and love are for. You two are the first to be, and I don't have an experience over this. You seem to be the right person to ask for this kind of stuff, seemingly the fact that you're logical, calm and reasonable to talk with. Ron's silence would only leave us totally awkward, I think._

Hermione was flabbergasted and blushing. Good thing, her bushy hair was covering the left side of her face, or else Harry would see her and might think something else entirely had come up. She was just stunned because _the_ great Harry Potter would be abused with his Muggle relatives. After all, he's famous, but him being abused sounds more than harsh considering the fact that his parents had been murdered and he had no relatives left anymore. She was blushing because Harry chose her. It could have been any girl or any friend, like Ron or any classmate, but he still chose her. However, since the fact that Ron wouldn't be the type of person anyone would want to have a private and awkward conversation with, she mentally slapped herself for thinking such ridiculous thought and began writing.

_Like what, Harry? _

Harry noticed that her lips pursued into a smile and received the paper. He was neither shock nor surprise. _Oh, great. After my thoughtful speech she would reply like this. Well, anyways, I started it, _he thought. _If I want to get an answer, then I would do her bidding._

_Anything, _he wrote and gave it back.

Harry mentally slapped himself. He glanced at Hermione's essay, and she snapped a look at him. He looked away and worked on his essay, his cheeks tinted with red. He was caught staring at his female friend. _Pathetic Potter._

Hermione was supposed to be finished now, but she was still writing, making touch-ups and possibly, correcting her mistakes.

_All right, then. Do your homework in time, don't procrastinate and remember back when you've heard of Flamel. _

_Sounds easy, enough. And what's the consequence? _he wrote back. It wasn't easy, but she was trying to save his academic grades, and he was very grateful for that.

Hermione was biting the sharp end of her quill. Harry presumed it was cute, and shook his head roughly of thinking such thought. He went back to his essay.

_You need not ask. It's very grave, Harry. Mark my words, it'll be included on one of your nightmares, _she threatened. Harry gulped and now he was frantically scared if he didn't do her bidding by accident. Nevertheless, he would try everything in his will to save his academic life and reminisce about Flamel. Hermione was by his side, anyway. He knows she would help him in any way she could.

_I agree, then. My answer, please?_

_Love can't be explained by such words. You just feel it._

Harry had his brows furrowed, imitating Hermione's voice inside his head and repeating it; all the while, thumping his fingers loudly on the desk, earning sharp looks from Hermione and shush from Ron. He shut himself up and began writing, while doing his essay.

_I don't feel it, Hermione. I never did. If I do, then it would've hurt so much, straining bruises all over my body, making me feel weak and sobbing hard on the corner of my (cup) bed. Is that what love is?_

Harry crossed his mistake. Even if he already said his secret, he wasn't about to say everything yet. The thought would be very saddening. He gave it to her surreptitiously and she took it without a doubt. When she read it, her eyes began to cloud with tears. She incessantly blinked her eyes to prevent from crying. Harry might think that she's weak or worse, pitying him. So she wrote a hasty reply and gave it back.

_That's an illogical thinking, Harry. I'm really sorry about my previous reply, but love is a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. You know, Harry, you can ask me this question when Ron wouldn't be there. Anytime, Harry, because you see, I believe we're wasting time here. Half an hour, this essay will be passed. You don't want your essay to be incomplete, don't you? Then, work on it. I believe we made a deal._

_Good thing Hermione does not pity me, _Harry thought.

_Alright, fine. Wish me luck, then. Good luck to you, Hermione._

_Good luck, Harry._

And so Harry did his best.

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After he completed his essay, he wrote back to Hermione.

_Hermione! I've finished it. Thanks very much._

And for a second, their teacher, Professor Quirrel, flicked his wand to pass and arrange the essays on his table.

_You're welcome, Harry._

Ron, who decided to butt in the duo's business, asked Harry what they were doing. "We're writing, Ron. It's about something important, like the lesson, and it's not about Flamel. There's just something I don't understand, you see," he muttered and Ron nodded absentmindedly and began to fix his things.

Harry didn't really lie. It was a half-truth. Harry didn't mean the lesson in Hogwarts, but the lesson about love. Hypothetically speaking, he didn't commit a grave sin, which is lying to his best pal.

_I… I have an awkward question to ask, Hermione. It may be seem too much, but … I'm very curious, indeed, _he wrote back, his hand seemed to be shaking and Hermione noticed this as well.

_What is it? _she wrote, while mimicking Ron's movement. Harry did the same. After all, any minute or any second, it would be time to go to the Great Hall to fill in their hungry bellies.

(_Do) Do you love me?_

Again, good thing Harry couldn't see Hermione's face because she was deeply, deeply troubled and startled of Harry's question, but she tried to write calmly and soothingly as possible. She blushed profusely, and luckily, Merlin answered her prayer, the bell rang, and she gave the paper back to him.

She went away with Ron shooting sharp looks at her retreating figure.

"Blimey, what happened with Hermione? Is she hungry now?" He laughed.

But Harry, not minding his best friends, sat while in deep thought about what she wrote.

_That's a very rhetorical question, Harry._

"Let's go, Harry. I'm starving," inclined Ron.

And so they did.

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_On the Great Hall…_

The two friends sat on one of the long tables in the Great Hall. However, they didn't see a sight of bushy hair or hear a voice of a know-it-all.

_Why is Hermione not here? _the two friends thought, but they sat and ate in silence, anyway.

"Ron, can I ask you something?" asked Harry, interrupting the silence. "And swallow first, please."

Ron did what he was told. "Blimey, Harry. You sounded like Hermione just then. Anyway, what is it?"

"What does rhetorical mean?" he said, after sipping his pumpkin juice. "Is it something negative or positive?"

"Well, Hermione only knows that kind of thing. I don't know it as well. Seeing that she's not here, let's just ask Fred and George instead because Percy's not here."

After several mouthfuls on their food, Fred and George sat on the opposite where they sat. "About time you two, Harry's got to ask you something important."

"Do you hear that, George?"

"Am I dreaming? It couldn't be-no, possibly."

Harry frowned. _What on earth are they talking about?_

"Harry Potter needs our help! _The _great Almighty Potter needs our help! Quick. Tell us, Harry, what can we do you for?" chorused the twins with the smiles plastered on their faces.

Harry glanced at his pal. He was eating too fast.

"Uhh.. it's not really a big deal, you know. I just have some trouble regarding my vocabulary skills. Do you know what rhetorical means?"

"Really, Fred. Should we answer, Harry?" George had his arms fully-crossed, shaking his head.

"No offense, Harry, but you should ask Percy."

"It's not that we don't know what it means, but Percy's the right guy for asking those kind of stuff. Isn't that right, Fred?"

He nodded.

"But you guys know what it means, do you? You're third years, for Merlin's sakes!" retorted Ron.

"Oh and here retorts our dear Ronniekins."

"Tell me, Ronny, what's it like to be friends with Harry Potter?"

"Shut it. Just tell us the answer."

"Answer about what?" Percy Weasley asked, grabbing food all the way on his plate and began to eat.

_Oh good. Percy's here, _Harry thought.

"About my question," he replied.

"And your question is?"

"What does rhetorical even mean? Is it something negative or positive?" asked Harry again.

Percy breathed a sigh of relief. "Relax, Harry. It isn't something you would've been worried of," he paused. "Depending on the sentence, of course. It could be both, negative or positive."

"What does it mean?"

"Obvious!"

"Unquestionable!"

The twins retorted, earning a questioning look from Harry and Ron and a death glare from Percy. They shut their mouths and ate their meals afterwards.

"As we weren't so rudely interrupted, it's a figure of speech wherein one states that it's so obvious to answer the question, thus, only silence or possibly, irritation fills the answer because one already knows what the answer is."

As Harry echoed Percy's speech in his mind, and the twins applauded him, he couldn't help thinking…

(_Do) Do you love me?_

_That's a very rhetorical question, Harry._

And he smiled warmly to no one, getting back to his meal, while the Weasley twins created havoc between their brother, Percy.

And the only thing he was thinking… he loves Hermione, too, obviously and very rhetorically.

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A/N: The definitions aren't mine. It's from dictionary dot com.

Words: 2611 (excluding the Sorcerer's Stone)

Much appreciated the reviews and the faves.

Now what do you think?


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